Come Back, Be Here
by wouldtheywriteasongforyou
Summary: It scares you how easy it was to fall in love with Oliver. Shouldn't logic dictate that it could be just as easy to fall out of love with him or for him to shatter your heart into a million pieces? But you're a Gryffindor, fearless and reckless to the bone. You're not scared of anything . . . right? - KBOW long-distance relationship. Taylor Swift song. For Melody.


**Author's Note:  
Disclaimer: Taylor Swift song.  
**

Written for the QL competition (round two, chaser two: "I prefer my eggs sunny-side up" ; "quicksand" ; "breezy" ; Oliver Wood and flying) ; Wand Wood Competition "Hornbeam" ; Divergent Competition Amity quote 3. "We have each other memorized." ; Before I Fall Challenge quote 18. "The sun has just risen, weak and watery-looking, like it has just spilled itself over the horizon and is too lazy to clean itself up." ; Female Character Challenge "Matilda Wormwood" ; Hedley Challenge "18. Villain: someone who feels lonely" ; Oh The Thinks You Can Think "Sir Alaric" ; Disney Character competition "Queen Clarion" ; Book Thief Challenge quote 7. "She was saying goodbye and she didn't even know it." ; Essie Nail Polish Challenge "84. Pillow Talk" ; Crayon Colour Challenge "21. Cadet Blue" ; Birthday Fic Exchange "May 21: Melody"

Oliver is wearing the cologne AXE Peace. I have a lot of scent memories connected to that specific smell.

For Mel-Mel (MelodyPond77) because 13 days of poetry was overly ambitious of me to promise. Happy birthday (again).

18 May 2014. Word Count: 1,897

**_Come back_, you want to tell him. _Come back to me._**

* * *

**Come Back . . . Be Here  
**

[-]

"Katie," a voice tickles the edge of your consciousness. "Katie, love, wake up." A stubbly-covered chin lightly scratches your skin as silky-soft lips pepper your face with butterfly kisses.

"Mmm," you groan, rising into the waking world for a brief second before slipping back under the wave of sleep.

He lets out a low laugh and his minty-fresh breath ghosts over your face. The smell of light citrus, cedarwood, amber, and nutmeg waft off his warm body; coupled with the slight drip on the sheets around you, you figure out that he has recently showered. "Wake up," he persists. Then his lips find yours and you respond back instinctively.

"Morning, Wood," you mumble the innuendo when you break the kiss for air. Your eyes are still closed, but you can hear the smirking lilt in his voice when he says:

"Don't make fun of my name."

You stretch and whack his shoulder to let him know of your displeasure at his cheek and being woken up so early on a Saturday morning. "What time is it?" you yawn.

"Four," Oliver says apologetically.

Your eyes pop open. "Four?" you repeat. Silently, you take in the details of his attire: pressed cadet blue Oxford shirt with an undone navy tie looped around his neck; grey suit jacket and matching pants; polished cinnamon-and-caramel loafers on his feet. His briefcase is propped up against the wall near the door to your bedroom. "But I thought the Puddlemere alumni convention was tomorrow . . . ?"

Oliver smiles sadly. "Last-minute change of plans. The head coordinators rang last night to inform me. I wanted to tell you as soon as I received the news, but I didn't want to interrupt your night out with Leanne and Angelina." He checks his Rolex and sighs. "I have to head out in five. The cab should be swinging by any moment." He leans forward and gives you one last kiss before he has to catch his flight. You want to memorise this moment to play back in your loneliest hours in his absence. "I'll be back on Friday as planned. Stay safe until then, Katie. Don't go breaking any hearts or bones."

You're still in some slumber-induced stupefied shock. By the time you stutter out a long goodbye, he's already ducking into the cab outside your flat that's waiting to take him far, far away from you.

x

_"Hello, you've reached Oliver Wood. I'm currently busy at the moment, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Please leave a message after the beep."_

Beep.

You hang up; you only rang so you could hear the sound of his voice. The breezy and confident way he pronounces his words in that Scottish burr is comforting to your ear, but it's a poor substitute to hearing him talk in person.

Merlin, you miss him more than your heart can bear to handle. _Come back_, you want to tell him. _Come back to me._

(It's only Sunday evening.)

x

You meet Leanne and Angelina for brunch at your usual café on Monday morning. Not much has changed in your lives since you went club-hopping on Friday night. Well, not much besides Oliver flying across the world and leaving you waiting on the ground until the moment he comes back down. Leanne and Angelina dominate most of the conversation. The first words you speak all morning is a soft, "I prefer my eggs sunny-side up," to the server as he takes down your order.

When he walks away, your besties share a look before pouncing on you. "What's up with you, Katie?" Angelina demands in her usual blunt way.

"Something you want to tell us, sweetie?" Leanne says in a gentler tone. "I haven't seen you this out of sorts since Seventh Year."

You reflexively cringe at the passing mention of The Necklace incident. You fiddle with the ends of your plait and shrug noncommittally. "Just tired, I guess."

Angelina waggles her eyebrows at this confession. "What, is Wood keeping you awake at all hours?"

Shrugging, you let yourself be distracted by a bicyclist swerving through morning rush hour traffic. Oliver _has_ been keeping you awake but not in the way Angelina is implying - he's been calling you at ungodly hours because the boy is rubbish at keeping track of timezone differences. Last night, the two of you talked about everything and nothing until three in the morning your time. The memory of it has a small smile playing across your lips.

"Katie, are you listening to us?" Angelina interrupts your thoughts.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you respond back absentmindedly.

Suddenly, Leanne is squealing. "Katie, you tart! When were you going to tell us that you're in _love_?!"

"What?" you exclaim. Her words jerk you out of your quagmire of daydream thoughts. "I'm not in love."

"Yes, you are," Angelina counters sagely. "You're in love with a certain someone named Oliver Wood."

"Rubbish," you dismiss airily and purposefully keep your tone breezy and light while inside you're panicking. You _can't_ be in love with Oliver. After watching your parents marriage dissolve like a puddle of quicksand, you promised yourself that you would never get attached to any bloke who had the potential to break your heart. But your traitorous mind plays back the memory of Saturday morning, the details spinning faster than the plane that took him away, and you force yourself to stay in denial. You're not in love with him. Not one single bit.

x

"Hey, how's it going? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, no, just putting my darks into the spin cycle. What's up?"

"Just chillaxing in the hotel. I have a few free hours before the team meets for a few drinks."

"You're sounding American already."

"Am I? There are worse things in life, I suppose."

"Mmm."

"Things like Coachroach Clusters, Umbridge, Quidditch bans, losing a match, not waking up next to you, tea and toast without jam, scrambled eggs - have I told you that I prefer mine sunny-side up? - "

"Yes, dear, you've told me before. Sounds like someone is a little hungry."

"Starving. I missed breakfast, and the lunch meeting ran a little late."

"What's America like?"

"Er . . . crowded? Busy? There's so much to do here, Katie. You'd love it - I'll have to take you, sometime. I'm in New York, at the moment. I'll be flying over to D.C. tomorrow, and then on Thursday and Friday I'll be in Atlanta."

"But I thought you said you were coming home on Friday?"

"Puddlemere added in another meeting."

"How nice of them."

"Yeah, there's a reason why I dropped the team. I wanted to settle down and have a life, you know? I can't be jetting off across the world when you're - hold on a minute - _I'll be there in a moment, Smith!_ - erm, Katie, I've been wanting to tell you this for a while, and I know I should be saying this in person rather than over the phone but - _yeah, a taxi is fine, Lewis. We can split the tab when we get back_ - you still there, Katie?"

"I don't want to keep you waiting. Whatever you have to say isn't so important that it can't wait, right?"

"Oh, er, yeah, I guess not. I'll, erm, talk to you later."

"Sounds good. Miss you, Oliver."

"Miss you more, love."

Those three little words are on the tip of your tongue - _I love you_ - but by the time you've managed to muster the courage to say them, the line has already been cut.

x

It scares you how easy it was to fall in love with Oliver. Shouldn't logic dictate that it could be just as easy to fall out of love with him or for him to shatter your heart into a million pieces? But you're a Gryffindor, fearless and reckless to the bone. You're not scared of anything . . . right?

Love frightens you, though. The delicate, beginning rush and the feeling you can know so much without knowing anything at all leaves you breathless as if you're standing on a precipice with your feet stuck in quicksand and a bottomless ocean waiting for you on the other side of the cliff, should you dare to jump then fall.

However, your heart comforts your mind. _Oliver will catch you_, it promises. _He's a Keeper; it's what he does best_.

Love still scares you, but you wouldn't trust your heart with anyone except for Oliver.

x

On Friday, Leanne and Angelina stop by your flat only to find you on the tiled kitchen floor with your head between your knees. The sun has just risen, weak and watery-looking, like it has just spilled itself over the horizon and is too lazy to clean itself up; it echoes the runny yolks in the broken sunny-side up eggs that you were trying to cook for breakfast.

"Oh, sweetie," Leanne says and immediately drops down beside you and guides your tear-streaked face to her shoulder. "Shh, shh, it'll be all right." Distantly, you hear the sound of the stove being turned off, and the unpleasant smell of burnt eggs is gently wafted out of the room from the window Angelina has cracked open.

"You want to talk about it?" Angelina says in a rare moment of tact.

You let out a bubble of snot-filled laughter even though nothing is funny. "I just . . . Godric, I really miss him. It's not fair that Oliver is never around - first it was travelling with Puddlemere to all of their matches, and now they've roped him in to still travel with them even though he's retired from professional Quidditch - 'alumni meetings', my arse! I wish he'd just come back and be here." You sigh, exhausted from the emotional rush. "Merlin, I'm pathetic for having a break down, aren't I?"

"No, of course not," Leanne reassures me. "You're in love."

"I am, aren't I?" you agree in a slightly sad voice. "This must be the cruelest way to fall in love with someone who is worlds away." You tuck your head further into her shoulder. "I don't want this. I never wanted to fall in love because I didn't want to ever feel like this. How is it possible to need and miss someone this much?"

The doorknob of your front door starts to turn. Your heart leaps in to your throat, but you tamp the silly notion down that Oliver's returned to London early. He told you last night that he was definitely flying in tomorrow.

"Katie?"

But there he is, standing right in front of you. You have to blink through the tears to be sure that Oliver is, in fact, here in your flat and not some conjuration of your imagination. The face you've wanted to see all week smiles hesitantly when he sees you in pieces on your kitchen floor. Leanne gives you a reassuring squeeze and Angelina is still cleaning the burnt remains of your massacred breakfast.

"I'm home," he tells you as if it's the most natural thing to say.

You scramble out of Leanne's hold and practically tackle Oliver Wood. "I love you," you blurt without preamble. "I love you like I love sunny-side up eggs and Quidditch and flying and - "

He interrupts you with a kiss. "I love you more," he admits in all honesty, dropping his suitcase to the floor so that he can hold you closer to his heart. "I've loved you from the very first day."

[-]


End file.
